


It Must Be Something More

by CindySin



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood and Violence, Drug Abuse, F/M, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Soft Billy Hargrove, Step-Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-19
Updated: 2020-09-19
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:53:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26540956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CindySin/pseuds/CindySin
Summary: If it wasn’t for the hair, he wouldn’t have recognised her. She’s so tall now, taller than Susan, maybe even taller than Billy, long legs in ripped black jeans, biker boots just like the ones she dragged Billy for wearing on her feet.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Maxine "Max" Mayfield
Comments: 6
Kudos: 34





	It Must Be Something More

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lucdarling](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucdarling/gifts).



> Title from A Flock Of Seagull’s Wishing (If I Had A Photograph Of You).  
> This is my first foray into BillyxMax writing, and I’ve fallen deep down the rabbit hole. I know it’s a controversial pairing, but something about these two draws me in. I make no apologies.  
> For lucdarling, who has provided more encouragement than she realises with her feedback and words of support. Thank you.

Billy strolls across the grass toward the congregation gathered around the open grave, rolls his eyes at all the people standing in that weak October sunshine, head to toe in black.

Neil may have been a shitty father, but as the old saying goes, nobody knows what goes on behind closed doors, and he had been liked and respected by the people of Hawkins until the day he died.

Billy still isn’t sure whether he’s sorry he wasn’t around to see the old man kick the proverbial bucket or not. He knows that it was slow, cancer eating away at his insides over months, leaving him a hollowed out shell of a man, but he’s not sure even he would have derived any satisfaction from seeing Neil in that sorry-ass state. He can’t, however, deny the relief he felt when he got the phone call from Susan telling him it was over, that Neil had passed away peacefully in his sleep at the hospital, and wouldn’t Billy please attend the funeral? Didn’t he know it was Neil’s biggest regret that they never reconciled, buried the past?

Billy had laughed at that, told Susan he’d be there, but only to make sure the bastard was really dead.

And here he was, hanging back from the crowd of mourners, close enough that he can hear the pastor’s words but far enough away that nobody has noticed him yet, watching from behind his aviators as the coffin is lowered into that hole, Susan’s sobs audible over the dedication spoken by the graveside.

Once upon a time, Billy would have sold his soul for the chance to shovel the dirt on top of that box with his own hands, but today he’s satisfied to simply watch it disappear into the ground.

Final prayers are said and the crowd begins to murmur, people breaking ranks to approach Susan, offer their condolences and words of comfort.

That’s when Billy sees her.

Susan steps forward to take the hand of an elderly woman that Billy vaguely recognises from his time in this hellhole, and there she is, standing behind her mother, crimson lips dragging on a cigarette casually, her eyes obscured by sunglasses not too dissimilar to the ones on Billy’s face right now. The sunlight sets her auburn hair ablaze, and Billy can’t help but take a few steps toward her, pulled forward by some sort of magnetism.

If it wasn’t for the hair, he wouldn’t have recognised her. She’s so tall now, taller than Susan, maybe even taller than Billy, long legs in ripped black jeans, biker boots just like the ones she dragged Billy for wearing on her feet. She’s wearing a sheer black blouse under her leather jacket, and even at this distance Billy can see her bra through it. _Jesus_ he thinks, _Susan must be having a coronary about her wearing that to a funeral_ , and he almost laughs out loud.

He sees Susan turn to her, say something too quietly for Billy to hear, and Max nods, waits for her mother to move away toward the waiting cars on the arm of a man Billy doesn’t recognise. He watches as Max steps toward the edge of the grave, squats down as she takes a last slow drag on her cigarette before she flicks the butt into it, blows out a cloud of smoke.

“See ya down there Neil.”

Her eyes meet Billy’s as she stands up, and she smirks at him, turning to follow Susan across the cemetery, hands tucked in her pockets.

His plans to disappear immediately after the burial suddenly seem hasty, his curiosity piqued. Couldn’t hurt to stay for one drink, drown the memories of the man who’d made his teenage years a misery Billy tells himself as he fishes his car keys from his pocket. Just one though.

Down the line he’ll realise he knew that was a lie all along.

———

Even after four years, four years away from that house and the living hell he’d endured inside its walls, Billy still feels his pulse pick up speed when he pulls up outside it, parks over the end of the driveway. He sits there for a moment, his mind drifting to the night Neil had finally kicked him out for good, dragging Billy out of the door and throwing his keys out after him.

He shakes his head, clears those memories as he climbs out of the car, walks up the front path and knocks on the door.

Susan opens it almost immediately, as if she’s been stood behind it waiting for him to appear, and her eyes fill with tears.

“Oh Billy, you came.”

He stiffens as she folds him into her arms, raises a hand and pats her shoulder with it awkwardly.

“Uh, Susan.”

He stops, doesn't know what to say, can’t really say nice to see you or sorry for your loss, because he isn’t, not a single bit.

“Please, come in, have something to eat and a drink” Susan tells him, finally releasing him from their awkward embrace and stepping aside to let him in.

It’s hard to tell when the house is filled with people, but from what Billy can see it hasn’t changed at all, the walls the same bland beige they were when he left, same floral curtains at the windows. He wonders what his old room looks like now, whether Max claimed it as her own, or maybe Susan turned it into a cosy guest room. Not that he cares either way.

Susan ushers him into the kitchen, eyes following him as he trails behind her, voices whispering about Neil’s wayward son, that’s right, ran away, wouldn’t come back when Neil was on his death bed, didn’t even wear a suit to his father’s funeral. He feels his fingers flex into fists at that, but just as soon as his anger rises it’s gone, years of learning to control his temper away from his father pushing it back down inside him.

He watches as Susan pours him a whiskey, hands the tumbler over to him, clasps his hands in hers around the glass.

“I’m glad you came Billy” Susan tells him, smiling sadly at him. “I know this must be hard for you, but I appreciate it. It means a lot to me that you came. And to Max too. She, uh... she’s struggled a little since you left.” She lowers her voice, eyes becoming glassy again. “She went a little off the rails in recent years. I was hoping that maybe you could, you know, talk to her, perhaps?” Susan laughs, high pitched and shrill, verging on hysterical. “You were the same once!”

Billy nods, not really sure how to answer that, sips at his drink. A voice calls to Susan from the living room and Billy breathes a sigh of relief when she excuses herself, slips away from him.

He picks up the whiskey bottle from the countertop, tops off his glass before he shrugs and walks out of the kitchen with both the bottle and glass in his hands.

He follows the faint thrum of a drum beat through the people milling around, watching him, taking him in in his jeans and unbuttoned shirt, noses wrinkled in distaste as he steps into the hallway. He can see his old bedroom door ajar, but the music isn’t coming from there, it’s coming from Max’s room, reverberating through the closed door.

He stands outside it, grins to himself when he realises that she’s listening to Skid Row. He taps on the door with the top of the whiskey bottle, hears the bed springs creak as she stands up and comes to the door. She cracks it open and the smell of pot drifts through the gap.

“Thanks” Max says, reaching out and taking the bottle from Billy’s hand, shutting the door in his face. He stands there for a moment, staring at that door, before he bursts out laughing, shakes his head.

He knocks again before he turns the handle, opens the door to see her reclining on the bed casually, foot tapping to the music as she drinks whiskey from the bottle.

He can’t help staring as he as watches her, wondering when the hell she changed from a dorky, awkward teenager into this willowy beauty in front of him, all legs and flaming hair and painted lips.

“William” she says, not looking up from the magazine she’s flicking through, cigarette dangling loosely from her mouth.

“Maxine” Billy replies, the corner of his mouth twitching at the way she still wrinkles her nose when he calls her that. “Long time no see. Like what you’ve done with the place” he tells her, gesturing to the walls, now deep violet, the Metallica poster from Billy’s old room tacked up opposite the bed. “Any chance of a top up?” he asks, lifting his empty glass.

He walks over to the bed, holds it out so Max can pour.

“Interesting choice of attire today” he tells her, and Max snorts.

“Had to send the bastard off in style” she says, a smirk dancing over her lips as she stubs her smoke out in the ashtray on the bedside table. “May he rot in hell” she continues, raising the bottle to clink it against Billy’s glass.

“I’ll drink to that” he growls, draining his glass in a single swallow as Max swigs from the bottle. “Things didn’t get better then, after I left?”

Max huffs a bitter laugh, shakes her head.

“Not for me” she tells him, shuffling over on the bed and gesturing for Billy to take a seat. He perches on the edge, arms resting on his knees as Max plucks a partially smoked joint from the ashtray, re-lights it. “Just meant I was the only person left to knock around” she tells him around a mouthful of smoke, blowing it out in a cloud above her as she lays back, bottle cradled between her legs.

“Shit, I didn’t... If I’d known Max...” Billy runs his hand through his hair, turns to Max a little more.

“I’m sorry” he tells her softly. Max shakes her head.

“Not your fault” she tells him, pulling on the joint again before passing it to Billy. He takes a drag, savours it. It’s good stuff.

“Was bound to happen sooner or later, probably would have even if you’d stayed. I don’t think Neil much liked some of my... life choices.”

Billy grins.

“Choices like this?” he asks, passing the joint back to Max, who laughs as she takes it.

“This-“ she says, taking a last drag before she puts it out in the ashtray, blowing rings of smoke in Billy’s direction, “-along with the booze and the boys I bring home, the way I dress, the music I listen to-“

“-the company you keep, I know the drill” Billy nods, and Max laughs. They sit like that for a moment, the two of them watching each other, both surprised at how easy this conversation has been, even after four years apart.

“She’s hoping you’ll stay a while” Max says quietly, and Billy runs a hand through his hair, his whole demeanour changing. “I told her you wouldn’t want to.”

Billy sighs.

“I just... I don’t know if I can Max. When I left this house, I didn’t think I’d ever come back here. I left a lot of baggage here. I don’t know if I’m ready to unpack that yet.”

Max’s eyes widen, a surprised look on her face.

“Errr, you know you said that out loud right? Billy Hargrove, suppressor of feelings and emotions?” Billy hums, picks at a loose thread on the bed cover.

“There’s this girl I was seeing for a while, she was a psych major. Wanted to be a therapist. I guess I was her little pet project. Most of it’s bullshit, but there’s some stuff that she said that makes sense.”

Max nods, shrugs a little.

“And here’s me, handling my feelings with booze and casual sex” she laughs, lifting the whiskey bottle from between her legs and tipping it in Billy’s direction, offering it to him. He shakes his head.

“I gotta drive later, head back home.”

Max narrows her eyes at him as she swallows.

“Since when do you give a shit about drinking and driving?” Billy laughs. 

“Since I got a job that I need to keep to pay the rent.” Max smirks. 

“Never thought I’d see you do sensible” she says with a grin, and Billy returns it.

“Never thought I’d see you turn into me” he fires back, and Max cackles laughter.

“Yeah, I guess I did in a way. Much to Neil’s chagrin. I told him it was his own fault, always pushing us to spend time together, play happy families.”

“I’ll bet he didn’t like that” Billy tells her with a wince, and Max nods.

“Had the bruises for a week to show for it” she tells him, and Billy shakes his head.

“Didn’t you learn anything from me?” he asks her, a sad smile on his face. “Nod in the right places, tell him ‘yes sir’, and if in doubt, repeat the following; respect and-“

“-responsibility, yeah, I know” Max cuts in, rolling her eyes. “It’s also definitely _not_ advisable to throw a punch at him after a few too many beers and call him a motherfucking piece of shit.”

Billy stares at her, mouth hanging open.

“You did that?” he asks incredulously, and Max nods, grinning and lighting a cigarette.

“Oh yeah. Went down like a sorority girl at a frat party.”

Billy chuckles and shakes his head.

They sit like that for a little while, neither one saying much, just listening to the music as Max drinks when she speaks suddenly, making Billy jump.

“Hey, if you can swing it with your boss to have the day off tomorrow and stay here tonight then you should come out with me later. I’m meeting a friend at a bar downtown for a few drinks, should be fun.”

Billy considers for a minute as he lights another cigarette.

“What about Susan? You really think you should be leaving her on her own tonight? You know I don’t give a shit about Neil, but she just buried her husband today Max. Maybe it’d be better if you stayed home tonight.”

Max rolls her eyes.

“She’s staying with Dee and Tony tonight.” She notices Billy’s questioning look, explains to him. “Some woman she works with and her husband, they were at the funeral. They insisted she went over there for dinner later so she won’t have to cook today and so they can keep an eye on her, make sure she’s doing okay, some shit like that.”

Billy thinks for a minute, runs through his options in his head. He hasn’t told Max or Susan, but he doesn’t actually have to be back at work for the rest of the week anyway. His boss told him to take the time off, go to his old man’s funeral, spend some time with his family. Sal doesn’t know that Billy can’t imagine anything worse.

Except that’s not true, not really.

Fair enough, he’d rather remove one of his own nuts with nothing more than a blunt spoon than have to endure a second of his father’s company, but that’s not a problem anymore. The bastard’s dead and buried, rotting in a box six feet underground, and that fact alone delights Billy.

Susan’s more or less tolerable, Billy supposes. He’s not sure whether that needle will swing closer to ‘more’ or ‘less’ now that Neil is gone, but it doesn’t matter. From the sound of it she won’t be around tonight anyway.

And that leaves Max. Maxine, his step sister. Except he’s never thought of her as a sister, never applied that label to her or their relationship. Siblings. It makes him shudder, and not just because Billy has always been more than content with being an only child, thank you very much. No, that word makes him shudder because it drags all his feelings for Max kicking and screaming to the surface, pushes them up until they’re simmering away beneath the surface of his skin ready to ooze from his pores like grease.

He can’t escape them. Buried them for almost four years, fucked and drank them away, locking them in a box inside him and tossing away the key.

But now they’re crawling out of that box, alive and festering inside him, and he knows it’s wrong, knows it’s sick that he feels anything at all for Max other than brotherly affection, except he’s not her brother so it it really that wrong?

He’s had this conversation with himself countless times. Had it with Kristy once, in purely hypothetical terms of course, who eyed him with suspicion but ultimately assured him that it wasn’t all that unusual for step-siblings to develop feelings for one another when they hadn’t been raised together pre-adolescence, especially when they’ve experienced a common trauma. A common trauma like an abusive parent.

But still. He can’t silence that voice that tells him that he’s sick for thinking of Max the way he has. Still does, on occasion. He absolutely should not be going out drinking with her, and under no circumstances should he stay here tonight. _Period_.

“Yeah, sure” Billy hears himself say, like an out of body experience. “What time are you two meeting?”

———

When they walk into the dingy bar downtown later that evening, Billy can’t help but look around the place apprehensively, wondering how the hell Max even knows that a shithole like this exists.

“It’s not the nicest place” she’d told him in the car earlier, “-but they never card me, and the drinks are cheap.”

“Yeah, you weren’t fucking kidding were you” Billy mutters to himself under his breath as they approach the bar, eyed by an older guy perched on a stool and nursing a bottle of beer.

Billy raises an eyebrow when Max stops beside him, leans an elbow on his shoulder. He snakes his arm around Max’s waist, his tattooed leathery skin a stark contrast to Max’s milky white exposed midriff.

Billy had almost had a heart attack when she’d appeared in the kitchen earlier that night. Susan had left about an hour before, tearfully telling Billy how lovely it was to see him again, and that if she’d known he was coming she’d have invited Dee and Tony to come to them for dinner. Billy shakes his head, tells her it’s fine, don’t worry, he’ll see her tomorrow if he’s still here when she gets back. He’s not sure he’s ready to endure one of Susan’s recipes just yet. He’s not convinced he ever will be.

“Billy?” she says, turning back from the door, hand on the frame. “Look after Max tonight for me please” she says, voice little more than a pained whisper as she slips out of the house toward the car parked outside, driven by the guy whose arm she’d taken at the funeral that morning.

“You ready?”

Billy turns at Max’s voice and when he does he almost spits out the beer he’s been drinking, coughs and splutters as he swallows it instead.

She’s standing in the kitchen doorway in knee high heeled boots and a denim mini-skirt, a band of pale skin visible above it, chest barely contained by a cropped halterneck top. Her eyes are lined in dark pencil, lips scarlet, and her hair is loose around her face in bouncy waves. If Billy was trying to be an asshole, he might tell her she looks like a hooker. A classy one, but still a hooker. But he isn’t, so he doesn’t.

“You look, uh, nice” he tells her, and Max rolls her eyes.

“Come on, lets go. You can park in town” she tells him, tossing him his car keys.

It unsettles Billy how much the tattooed guy with his arm around Max looks like him. Or would, rather, if Billy were twenty years older and spent almost every day of those twenty years in this bar. He’s got the same muscled physique wrapped in a white tank top, same sandy mullet of curls, eyes blue just like Billy’s, except this guy’s are dull, sparkle deadened by what Billy guesses is years of drinking in places like this.

“Billy, this is Keith” Max tells him, turning to Billy with a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Keith, I told you about Billy, my brother.”

“Step-brother” Billy corrects automatically, holding out a hand to Keith, who eyes it with suspicion before he takes it briefly. His palm is warm and clammy, and Billy fights the urge to wipe his hand down his jeans as soon as Keith releases it from his grip.

“Buy me a drink babe?” Max sing-songs, voice saccharine sweet, leaning into Keith and planting her lips on his. He waves to the bartender, and Max orders two beers, one for her and one for Billy.

“He pays for his own” Keith grunts, and Max giggles. She leans into his ear and whispers something Billy can’t hear, and Keith nods.

“Thought you said you’d be here at six” Keith drawls at Max, handing a twenty over to the bartender as he pulls her into him with his other hand, tucks it in the back pocket of her skirt, squeezes her ass. Max runs her fingers through his hair, soothing him.

“It was the funeral today, remember? Things ran over a little, couldn’t get rid of everyone” she tells him as the bartender hands over Keith’s change. She lifts the bottle of beer to her lips and Billy can’t tear his eyes away as she wraps them around it and drinks. _Stop that_ he tells himself, reaching for his own drink.

“What’s he doin’ here anyway?” Keith asks petulantly, tipping his head in Billy’s direction. Billy’s about to answer him when Max cuts in.

“I haven’t seen Billy since he left home four years ago babe, I just thought it’d be fun to bring him out for a few beers tonight, catch up. It’s fine, he’s chill” Max tells him, and Billy narrows his eyes as he drinks, wondering what those words imply.

“So Keith” Billy chirps breezily, “what do you do? For work?”

Keith squints at him, flicks his eyes to Max and back to Billy.

“He a cop?” he directs at Max, and she laughs a little too hard.

“Don’t be stupid Keith, you think I’d bring a cop here? I told you, he’s my brother. He’s a mechanic.”

Billy doesn’t bother to correct Max again, directs his question at Keith instead, putting his beer down on the bar beside him.

“Would it matter if I was a cop Keith?” His eyes flit between the older man and Max, her face paler than usual now, chewing on her lip nervously. “What’s goin’ on here Max? Don’t bullshit me, I’m the master of spinning a good fucking cover story, remember?”

Max laughs nervously, reaches out to touch Billy’s arm.

“There’s nothing going on Billy, I just-“ she drops her voice, glances around as she speaks, “-don’t have a fake I.D, okay? Sometimes the cops show up because they know that they don’t card here, that’s all.”

Billy reaches out, grabs Max’s wrist and plucks the bottle from her hand, puts it down on the bar just a little too hard. A few faces turn around to look in their direction.

“Come on, we’re getting out of here” Billy tells Max, pulling her away from Keith. “We’ll go somewhere else. This place is a shithole Max.”

“Oww, Billy, let go of me!” Max cries, wrenching her arm from his grip, drawing more attention to the trio. She takes a few steps back to stand just behind Keith.

“Why don’t you run along home and leave Maxxie here to do what she likes, she’s a big girl now pal” Keith tells Billy with a satisfied smirk, and Billy feels his temper flash in his chest.

“That so?” Billy replies, his voice cool and steady. “Well it looks to me like she’s making some pretty poor decisions for a big girl, so if it’s all the same to you I’m gonna go ahead and take her home.” He takes a step toward the pair, but Keith stands from his bar stool, putting himself between the two of them.

“Yeah well nobody fuckin’ asked you did they pretty boy, so how ‘bout you keep your opinion to yourself and leave her the fuck alone” he spits, jabbing his thumb over his shoulder at Max.

“Hey” she cuts in angrily, grabbing Keith’s shoulder. “Don’t you fucking talk to him like that, this is between-“

Max’s words are cut off by the crack of a backhanded slap across the face, and when Billy sees her lift her fingers to her mouth and then come away from her lips streaked red with blood and smeared lipstick his rage consumes him whole. He grabs Keith by his tank top, yanks on it to spin him round, fabric tearing under his fingers.

He throws his first punch at Keith’s temple, stunning the older man and driving him sideways into the bar as Max shouts his name. His next one knocks him to the floor as it connects with his nose, exploding in a fountain of crimson, spraying Billy’s arm and hand and the front of Keith’s clothes. Billy’s not sure where he strikes next, just knows that every swing feels better than the last, that when Keith’s eyebrow splits open and a freshet of blood cascades down the side of his face it gives him a sense of enormous satisfaction. When Keith’s grip on Billy’s hand, fisted in the front of his clothes goes limp, eyes rolled back in his head, Max reaches out, grips Billy’s shoulder, and he pauses, chest heaving, face slicked with sweat and speckled with blood.

“You’re gonna kill him Billy. You made your point, now stop. Let’s get outta here.”

Billy listens to the pained groans of the man under him before he pulls him closer, fist still bunched in his now blood-soaked vest. He brings Keith’s face up to his, leans into him, lips so close they almost brush his ear when he speaks.

“You ever touch Max again, and and I’ll end you, you understand me? And I don’t just mean if you hurt her. I mean if you touch her for any reason whatsoever, for the rest of your sorry excuse for a life. You don’t call her, you don’t speak to her, you see her in the street and you better look at the ground and walk the other way. Do I make myself clear?”

Keith groans weakly, a noise that could be anything. Billy shakes his fist once, rattles the guy’s brains in his skull.

“Do I make myself clear?” he says again, a little louder.

“Yes” Keith croaks, coughing weakly.

Billy drops him to the floor, wipes his blood drenched hands on the pants of the guy he’s just beaten to a pulp before he stands, grabbing Max by her arm and steering her through the bar to the door.

He steps out into the frigid October air behind her, following her as she stomps away from him down the street, arms folded across her chest.

“What the fuck was that?” Billy shouts after her, frustration rising in him.

“Just leave it Billy, you’ve done enough” she snaps, barely looking at the traffic as she crosses the street. He waits for a cab to pass, runs across the road to catch up with her.

“What do you mean ‘I’ve done enough’? That guy hit you Max! He’s an asshole! He’s lucky I didn’t kill him! He deserved every fucking punch he got!”

“I don’t need you to stand up for me!” Max screams, whipping around to face Billy, taking him by surprise. “You haven’t been around for the last four years, and I’ve been doing just fine on my own, so what makes you think I need you to step up now, huh? Because I don’t” she spits, jabbing him in the chest with a finger. “So keep your fucking nose out of my business.”

“Oh yeah, you’re doing just fine Max” Billy laughs, sarcastically. “You’re doing real fucking great! You’re barely twenty, you went from being a straight A student to just scraping graduating, you’re drinking and smoking pot every night, you can’t hold down a job, you’re doing ay-o-fucking-kay Maxine. Your boyfriend knocks you around-“

“He’s not my boyfriend, he’s my fucking dealer” Max shouts, silencing Billy.

“What the fuck do you mean ‘he’s your dealer’, dealing what?” Billy asks, his voice hard. “Max, what the fuck is he selling you?”

Max’s face falls as she realises what she’s just said, and she runs her hands through her hair, swipes at her face with shaking fingers.

“I get coke from him.” she says, quieter now, and Billy take a step back, looks at her.

“Coke?” he asks, shock in his voice. “Jesus Christ Max, you’re buying coke from some fucking guy in a grotty bar downtown?”

Max looks at him for a moment before she drops her eyes, stares at her feet as she picks at her shirt.

“I don’t buy it” she says, barely a whisper. “He... gives it to me. Because I sleep with him.”

Billy recoils like he's been slapped.

“You... you’re whoring yourself out for drugs Max? Are you completely fucked up?”

“Oh, like you can fucking talk Billy!” she shouts back, face contorted in anger. “Some of the shit you used to get up to, you make me look like Mother fucking Theresa. So how about you get off my back and fuck off back to where-“

Billy lunges forward, grabs her by her upper arms and shakes her, stunning her into silence.

“And that’s exactly how I know how fucking stupid and reckless you’re being!” he shouts, letting go of her. Max stumbles backwards, rights herself as anger flashes in her eyes. “Jesus fucking Christ Max, you sleep with that asshole for coke! You let him fuck you and use your body and slap you around so you can sniff that fucking shit every night! That’s... that’s fucked up Max. Beyond fucked up.”

“Oh yeah? You think that’s fucked up?”

“Yes! Yes Max, I do!” he shouts back, and Max laughs loudly, a sound he’s never heard from her before, a laugh somehow resigned yet desperate at the same time, and Billy thinks it’s probably the most honest thing he’s ever heard come out of Max’s mouth. She steps toward him, eyes wide and wild and mouth streaked scarlet with blood and lipstick.

“You wanna hear fucked up?” She steps closer again and Billy resists the urge to back away from her, from the intensity of her gaze. She throws her arms in the air, eyes never leaving his.

“I only fucked him in the first place because he looks like you.”

Stunned silence falls between them, Billy struggling to process what he’s just heard Max say as they stand there in the street watching each other, the wind whipping Max’s hair around her face. When he speaks his voice is nothing more than a hoarse whisper.

“What... what did you just say?”

She holds his gaze, her voice lower now, softer.

“I said I only slept with him in the first place because he looks like you. Reminds me of you. When I’m with him I can pretend, for a little while at least.” She drops her eyes, shuffles her feet in her scuffed boots. “Pretend that I don’t... don’t need you, don’t miss you. That... that I don’t love you.”

She looks up then, sees Billy, wide eyed and staring at her, soul bared. That desperation returns to her voice, pleading with him almost.

“That’s what’s really fucked up right? That I’m in love with my brother? That I’ve been screwing some guy who’s old enough to be my dad just because he reminds me of my fucking brother, who I’ve been in love with for pretty much the whole time we’ve known each other?”

Billy can feel his heart pounding through his ribcage, hammering in his chest so hard he thinks it might give out on the spot if she says another word. He opens his mouth to speak but no sound comes out, his throat dry, so he swallows, tries again.

“It’s... do you... You _love_ me?”

Max sighs deeply, shoves her hands in her pockets roughly, like she’s can’t trust them to behave if she leaves them loose, stares at her feet.

“Yeah” she says quietly, her words almost lost in the wind. “Yeah, I do. Have for a long time. I thought it was just some stupid schoolgirl crush when we met, when our parents got married, thought that maybe as I got older and met boys my own age it’d go away, you know, just some stupid infatuation with a good looking older boy. But it never went away Billy, it just got stronger.” She looks up at him then, and Billy watches as a single tear spills, runs down her cheek, drops from her jaw to the concrete below. When she speaks again her voice sounds hollow, laced with pain, and somehow Billy knows every word is true.

“And then you left. And I fell apart. Started drinking, smoking, doing pot. Stopped bothering at school, startedbaiting Neil. I wanted him to hurt me Billy, to punish me. Partly because I believed I deserved it, because I was in love with you, and that was wrong. But part of me just wanted to feel... something. _Anything_. I started sleeping around, desperate to feel again. It never worked. I was numb inside.” She runs her fingers through her hair, wipes her face with the back of her hand, smears the blood-tinged tears across her skin.

“Anyway, I obviously wasn’t numb enough, because that’s when I met Keith, and pot turned into coke. Before I knew it I was shovelling that shit up my nose every night, pimping myself out to him for it, needing it just to get through the night. And now here we are-“ she says, holding her hands out, “-roles reversed, me the fucked up mess who can’t do anything right and you the voice of reason. Maybe that’s the real messed up thing here” she laughs bitterly, and Billy smiles a little in spite of the way his mind is galloping along at a million miles an hour. He watches Max for a minute, shuffling her feet and swiping at her nose with a hand as she hugs herself against the cold wind before he closes the space between them with a few steps.

“C’mere” he tells her as he shrugs out of his jacket, reaches around her to drape it over her shoulders. He pauses for a second, lets his hands linger on her arms as he speaks.

“I think... I think I knew, kinda, before. When I lived at home. About your, crush, or whatever you wanna call it. I’d seen the way you looked at me sometimes, always seemed to be hanging around the bathroom when I got out of the shower.” Max groans as Billy chuckles, lifting her hands and burying her face in them. Billy takes them in his, almost tenderly, pulls them away gently and lifts her chin with a finger so her eyes meet his.

“I uh, I didn’t realise it was more than that though. I never knew. You were just a kid when I left Max, you were-“

“I was almost 16 Billy” Max cuts in angrily, trying to pull her hands from Billy’s grip, “I know what I felt, so don’t you dare try to fucking patronise me and tell me I didn’t know what love was-“

“Max, please, that’s not what I’m saying. Just, just listen to me, okay? Please?” He shifts her hands to hold them both in one of his, reaches up to thumb away an angry tear from her cheekbone.

“You were just a kid when I left Max, you were fifteen, almost sixteen” he says, raising his voice a little and tightening his grip on her hand when she bristles at his words and begins to speak, “-and I knew that what I felt for you was wrong.”

Max falls silent, eyes widening slightly at Billy’s admission. She waits, searching his face with her gaze.

“I never really thought of you as a sister” he tells her softly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “At first it was just out of spite. I hated Susan, didn’t want her marrying Neil, trying to... to replace my mom.” He swallows, traces his thumb down the side of Max’s face, lets his hand linger at her jaw.

“I guess after that it was a self preservation thing. You were okay, for a girl. I didn’t mind hanging around with you so much after all. You were pretty badass at video games, you could skate. You had brass balls the size of coconuts.” Max laughs, sniffs back more tears. “I liked you, and so I didn’t wanna get too close. I never planned to stick around after graduation, I was always gonna leave Hawkins, so I didn’t wanna end up hurting when I had to leave you behind. Never imagined I’d start thinking of you as something else when I did. Something... more.” He drops his eyes, watches his fingers twist themselves in Max’s.

“I thought about you all time” he whispers, staring at their entwined hands. He watches as Max slips one from his grasp, feels her cup his face with it and nudge it up to look at her. She leans into him a little before she seems to think better of it, but when she tries to pull back Billy takes her by the arms and pulls her into him, presses her body to his as his lips meet hers for the first time. She tastes of salty tears and cheap beer, but as she sighs into his kiss softly Billy decides it’s the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted, the love of a person who’s seen him at his most vulnerable and at his worst and still wants him, warts and all.

She traces the seam of his mouth with her tongue and Billy parts his lips to let her in, meets her tongue with his. He threads his fingers into her hair, pulls her closer with his other arm around her waist, runs his fingers down her spine as she hums into his mouth softly before he breaks away.

“It’s weird kissing someone taller than me” Billy says, frowning, and Max laughs.

“But not weird kissing your sister?” she teases, and Billy shakes his head.

“Told you, you’re not my sister” he tells her, twisting her hair around his fingers. “You’re just Max.”

“Your Max?” she asks tentatively, her head tilted to the side. Billy smiles.

“My Max” he says, nodding before he pulls her in to kiss her again. It’s Max who breaks the kiss this time, her hand skimming over Billy’s ass, cupping it through his jeans.

“I was thinking, maybe we could uh, head back home?” she asks, her eyes flitting between Billy’s.

He peels her hands off him, holds her out at arms length.

“How much have you taken tonight?” he asks her, his voice firm but gentle. Max sighs.

“Nothing. I didn’t have anything left before we went out, and I didn’t get chance to do any before everything that happened.” She digs in her back pocket, pulls out a baggie filled with white powder that Keith had tucked in there earlier when he pulled her to him. “See?”

Billy holds out a hand, gestures for Max to hand over her stash. She makes a whining noise but puts the baggie in his palm anyway, watches him as he pockets it.

“You’ve done your last line of that shit, you hear me?” he tells her, an eyebrow raised. “I get why you like it, I’m not exactly a fucking stranger to it Max. But no good ever comes of it” he sighs, folding her into his arms. “It doesn’t make you feel any better, doesn’t solve your problems. It just anaesthetises you for a while so you can’t feel ‘em, can’t feel the pain. Then you wake up in the morning feeling like they hit you in a fucking truck.”

Max nods, raises mascara streaked eyes to his.

“So, can we go home now?”

Billy regards her for a moment, registers the pain in her eyes, wonders if this is what people used to see when they looked at him.

“Yeah” he says softly, threading his fingers into Max’s and lifting their joined hands so he can press a kiss to her knuckles. “Let’s go home.”

———

When Max walks back into the bedroom, face scrubbed clean of make up and blood, Billy’s struck by how much younger she looks, 5 years wiped off her age with nothing more than a washcloth. It’s a stark contrast to the painted mask she wore at the start of the night, and a damn sight better than the blood streaked mess she was an hour ago. She sits facing him on the bed where he lays in just his jeans, tucks her long legs under herself, pulls at the bottom of the oversized shirt she has on self consciously.

“Is that one of mine?” Billy asks, smirking, and Max nods.

“Yeah, you left it here when you went” she tells him, running her palms down her thighs, suddenly clammy with nerves. “I went through your stuff before Neil binned it all, saved some of it.”

Billy reaches out, tugs at the shirt, pulls Max toward him. 

“Looks better on you anyway” he purrs at her, his hand slipping under the hem, his thumb rubbing at the bare skin over her hip. Max leans forward on her knees, his words giving her the confidence to make the first move, and she presses her lips to his as Billy lifts his hands to her waist. He pulls her down and into him as they kiss, her body pressed to his, hand resting on his chest as their mouths move together, tongues sliding and lips smacking. As her fingers trace lower, over Billy’s ribs, Max shifts and moans softly when she feels Billy’s hard length pressing against her thigh through his jeans.

“Want you” she breathes, and Billy somehow lifts her and flips them over like she weighs no more than a couple of pounds, holds himself over her as she lays beneath him.

“You sure?” he asks, and she nods.

“Never wanted anything more” she tells him, and when he lowers himself to kiss her again she lifts her hips to grind into him, making him groan. Her fingers fumble with his button and zipper, and when she finally manages to get them undone one of his hands joins hers, pushing his pants down his thighs as he lifts his knees and kicks his legs in an attempt to get them off.

Finally divested of his pants Billy turns his full attention to Max as he kisses her, his mouth covering hers, lips moving down over her jaw and to her throat as his fingers graze over her panties. He can feel her heat through the thin cotton, feel the dampness on his fingertips as he brushes her core with them, and she moans against his temple as he slips his fingers into her underwear and drags them through her wet folds.

“Jesus” he croaks, his voice hoarse with desire. “This all for me?”

Max giggles breathily, nods.

“Just for you Billy” she whispers, his name turning into a drawn out moan of pleasure as he pushes two fingers into her.

She writhes beneath him as he works them in and out of her before he pauses, slides them out of her and sits up a little to pull her panties down her legs and off, discarding them over the side of the bed. She pushes his hand back between her legs and Billy smiles against her neck as he slips back into her, his thumb sliding up to her clit, circling it as he pumps his fingers into her.

“Ungh, don’t stop” Max pants, her fingers gripping his bicep almost painfully hard. “I’m close” she breathes, and as she moves beneath him the shirt she’s wearing rides up, exposing one rosy pink nipple.

Billy shifts slightly, lowers his head and takes it into his mouth, teases it to a peak with his tongue as he works his fingers in her, and just as Max moans aloud that she’s coming he bites down with blunt teeth and she calls out, a wordless cry of ecstasy.

Billy lets his fingers slip from her slowly as Max comes down from her orgasm, leans back on one elbow as he sucks her slick from them as she watches him through half lidded eyes.

“Well I finally know what all those girls you brought home in high school were screaming about” she drawls, voice gravelly and rough. Billy laughs.

“I haven’t even given you the best bit yet” he tells her, and Max smiles as she closes her eyes, head tilted back as he rubs his stubbled chin against her throat, nips at it with his teeth.

“Let’s do something about that then” she tells him, and when he lifts his head to look at her she pulls her shirt off over her head, drops it to the floor.

“I want you Billy” she tells him, voice low and pupils blown with lust. “I’ve wanted you for the longest fucking time, and now I’ve finally got you in my bed I’m not letting go. So stop teasing me and fuck me. Please” she adds, a coy smile on her lips.

“You got a condom?” he asks her, and Max nods as he stands up, pushes his boxers down his legs and steps out of them.

“In the drawer” she tells him, pointing, and he reaches out to retrieve one before he climbs back onto the bed, kneels between her legs and sits back on his heels as he tears the packet open and rolls it on.

He lowers himself to her, slides an arm under her shoulder, one hand cradling the back of her neck and the other reaching down to hold himself, pressing the head of his cock against her drenched opening, his eyes never leaving hers.

“You sure?” he asks her one last time, and Max swallows and nods, cheeks flushed and eyes wide.

“Please” she says, her tone needy, and it’s all Billy needs to hear. He slides into her, his hand moving to her hip as he pushes forward, Max gasping as he fills her, her mouth a perfect ‘o’ of pleasure as he bottoms out in her. He rests his forehead against hers as he just lays there like that with her for a moment, taking in the feeling of her around him, burning hot and vice tight.

“You okay?” he whispers, and Max litters his lips with tiny pecks of her own in answer, lifts a leg to wrap a thigh around his waist.

He moves slowly, slower than he’s ever taken anyone before he thinks, although he couldn’t put his finger on a reason why. It just feels like that’s the way it should be, slow and intense, taking in every little noise Max makes, the way she moans softly as he pulls out of her, the way her eyes roll back as he pushes back in, the feel of her nails cutting into his skin as she grips his forearm.

She buries her face in his neck and moans his name into his skin and Billy feels his stomach clench and his balls tighten at the way it sounds in her mouth, sinful and rich and dirty and beautiful. He realises that the pace of his thrusts have picked up without him noticing, realises that he’s hurtling toward the point of no return and he tries to slow down but Max presses a heel to the small of his back, encourages him to keep going, keep thrusting, keep filling her, whispers harder and faster, and so he does, pressing deeper into her now, his hips bouncing off hers.

“Am I hurting you?” he pants, and Max shakes her head frantically, a sheen of sweat coating her throat and chest, bites her lip and lets loose a cry that makes the noises she made earlier sound positively chaste.

“Oh God Billy, don’t stop, please, I’m coming” she calls, and he doesn’t, even though those words and the way her cunt twitches and tightens around him as she comes pushes him over the edge with her, he doesn’t stop, just keeps pounding into her as he spills with a roar. He only slows and stutters to a stop when his arms finally give out and he collapses on top of her, his face tucked into the crook of her neck and his hands tangled in her hair, and Max lifts her arms to wrap them around him, dragging her fingers up and down his back.

When he finally rolls off her, wincing as he slips the condom off, tying it and dropping it over the side of the bed to Max’s evident disgust, he just lays there for a moment as he stares at the ceiling, taking in what just happened. It’s Max who speaks first, her voice hesitant and small.

“Billy?”

He hmmms as he rolls his head to face her, sees the childlike fear and apprehension in her eyes, and he reaches out for her hand without looking, takes it and tucks his fingers into hers.

“Is everything gonna be different now?” she whispers, eyes glassy. Billy shifts onto his side, pulls Max into him, buries his nose in her hair. He presses a soft kiss to it, closes his eyes.

“I hope so Max. I really hope so.”


End file.
